


Perfume

by sherlockpotterlover



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Sherlock, Fluff, M/M, soft sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 03:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockpotterlover/pseuds/sherlockpotterlover
Summary: These moments were just for them, only for them.





	Perfume

**Author's Note:**

> This is another little fic that I had written a little while ago for some amazing friends of mine. They are always so supportive and just the best group of people. I am lucky to have met them <3

John had to say, while unpleasant, most of Sherlock’s experiments weren't that bad. Sure there had been that accident with the acid, burning through the countertop, and that time he’d blown a hole in the cupboard, in an attempt to keep damage to a minimum (Mrs. Hudson really let him have it that time!), and how could one forget the time he melted the hand off the arm of a corpse?! As a result, John was a fairly tolerant man when it came to Sherlock’s hobbies and interests, but this was too much for even him. It may have seemed silly, compared to other things he had done, but the smell in the flat was so powerful that John thought he might pass out from it. 

He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, tired and exhausted from a long day at the clinic, staring at the dozens of empty perfume bottles on the table, and sighed. After the day he had, this was the last thing he wanted to come home to. Sherlock was, of course, nowhere to be found, so that meant John was left to open the windows and try to air out the place. With grumbled swears, John made his way around the flat, hoping that the smell would soon be gone and just as he finished, the sound of the front door slamming shut and feet pounding up the stairs alerted him that Sherlock was home. 

“Sherlock, you need to get rid of this awful smell. It's like I've walked through the perfume section at bloody John Lewis!” His voice sounded weary even to himself as he turned to find Sherlock bending over the countertop, where an obscene amount of paper sat, in little strips. He picked up a few, smelt them, then set them down. 

“It’s for a case John.” He drawled, not even looking at him. “a woman's alibi depends on it.” John sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. A headache was just beginning to pound behind his eyes and he felt as though his nose might burn off his face from the overwhelming smell that was still permeating in the air. Normally, John’s curiosity would get the better of him and he would ask about the case; wonder out loud what perfume had to do with it and ask for all the details. He would sit in amazement as he listened to Sherlock talk faster than he could possibly think and deduce everything from the woman’s job, to how many siblings she had, all based off the perfume she wore. But not tonight. He could barely remain in the room as it was and each second that passed made him want to leave as quickly as possible. 

Without a word, John left the kitchen and walked down the hall and into their bedroom, quickly shutting the door. The last thing he wanted was for the smell to leak into the room. He flopped down onto the bed gracelessly and it seemed like as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light. He had felt like he just closed his eyes, when a gentle shaking rosed him from his sleep, causing a groan to rumble from his throat. His head felt heavy, but the headache was gone. When John opened his eyes, Sherlock was perched on the edge of the bed, eyes soft, looking down at him. He was holding a glass of water in his right hand, while his left carded through John silver-blond hair. The room was dim, only the lamp on the side table was turned on, casting a warm glow on the walls and on Sherlock. He looked almost dream like. He was so beautiful that it made John’s heart clench in his chest. How did he get so lucky? He certainly didn’t know.

“I’m sorry you came home to that. I didn’t think about how overwhelming that might have been.” His voice was soft, like water running through a stream. It was soothing; calming in a way that John couldn’t really explain. It was perfect. “Most of the smell is gone, thanks to Mrs. Hudson.” He was quiet for a beat before he asked “ How is your head?” The hand in John’s hair paused, then slid it softly down his face, to cup John’s cheek

“It’s much better.” John spoke, his own voice rough, but quiet as he shifted on the bed and sat up. Sherlock wordlessly handed him the water and John sipped from it. John moved slowly, not wanting to shatter this dream like feeling. Setting the glass on the side table he breathed a thank you and leaned forward, tugging Sherlock gently toward him and kissed him softly on the lips. It wasn’t needy, or lustful. It was the kind of kiss that could break a heart and heal it all at once. Just soft brushes and quiet breaths, a quiet moment, something that no one else got to see. These moments were just for them, only for them. It was not common for Sherlock to be so calm and relaxed; his mind usually racing and thinking miles ahead on a case. But these moments; these were the moments that John loved the most. Where they could be completely themselves. Not The Great Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. Just simply Sherlock and John. Partners. In every way that mattered.


End file.
